


One Last Joy Ride

by FrankenPup



Category: South Park
Genre: Adultery, M/M, Theft, drug mention, implied jimbo/ned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenPup/pseuds/FrankenPup
Summary: Stuart and Gerald were best buddies through elementary and forever friends in high school. No one really knows the true reason behind their split but the men themselves. When they have one last night to relive old times, anything can happen.





	

It was a rare occurrence when Gerald Broflovski and Stuart McCormick did anything together nowadays. However, it wasn't unusual to find the in the same place at the same time.

They grew up attached at the hip, best buddies through elementary and forever friends in high school. No one really knows the true reason behind their split, most believe it was because of Gerald's motivation to study hard and work for his dreams, ultimately leaving South Park. Becoming a lawyer would require leaving his family and friends, the place that raised him, to begin a new era in his life.

Others believe their friendship split after Carole came into the picture, Stuart's new love built a wall between the life long friends. Obviously, only one could come out on top.

Some even believe Gerald's departure was because he no longer wanted to be around street trash like Stuart.

But their past was shrouded in mystery, the only ones that knew the truth were the men themselves.

Skeeter’s was the only bar in town, the only place to get a decent beer and watch the game without worrying about their wives hovering over their shoulders.

Even though red haired bar owner tended to be a cheap sake, he did brew one hell of a good beer. Not even including his special moonshine. The bar itself needed repairs, it had a beaten up pool table and a broken pinball machine collecting dust in the corner. It still didn't have a out of order sign, so anyone who was dumb enough to drop their change into the damn thing often had a bone to pick with Skeeter himself.

The men gathered for their Friday night get together. Nothing was being celebrated, it was just an escape from their wives and life itself. Amongst the adult friends, Stuart knocked back another beer. The man reeked of a brewery even before he arrived, his bar tab nearly kept him from getting a drink. Somehow he weaseled his way into talking Skeeter into giving him just one.

Gerald sipped at his own, aware of important court cases he had to be at tomorrow. Nothing was worse than defending your client with a splitting headache. 

Randy was singing on the old karaoke machine, making a fool out of himself as usual. The friends all chiming along and laughing the night away. Steven was chatting about how his son managed to find himself grounded for the millionth time, Thomas complained about the peanuts and Garrison dragged Mr. Slave off after only a few drinks. Besides Jimbo nearly blowing a hole in the wall with his shotgun and Richard picking a fight, tonight had been uneventful. Which was peculiar all its own, if you lived in South Park that is.

Everyone started to dispersed after what felt like hours of shenanigans, trickling down to only Stuart and Gerald, the others claimed they had to get home to their wives. Randy and Thomas stumbled out the door, leaning heavily on one another, while Jimbo and Ned moved to the bar to continue a friendly drinking game. Jimbo looked ready to fall asleep standing up, so it was only a matter of time before one of them lost.

Gerald was always perplexed by their relationship. From what he could gather from the many war stories, Jimbo and Ned met in the harsh reality of the Vietnam War and yet here they were, many years later they were closer than brothers. Wherever one went, the other wasn't to far behind. Whenever Jimbo showed up without the smaller man it became the topic of conversation. It was so strange to see one without the other.

Maybe if he and Stuart were still friends they would be like them. Jimbo and Ned were in their fifties, and they were still best friends after that day they met fighting for their country.

Soon it was just the two of them, not even the bad bar music or the stale peanuts could distract from the obvious tension between the two. Both men sloshed their drinks, refusing to make eye contact.

But Gerald found himself casting a glance, hoping to catch the other man's eye before he spoke. Yet Stuart remained more interested in his bottle, quickly making water rings on the grimy table.

“I should go too, ‘s gettin’ late.” his words seemed to draw together into a barely comprehensible sentence. Yet as he shakily stood from the stool it was obvious his intentions were to leave. The bar was becoming barren as the early hours rolled around, the other patrons were quiet, taking up residence in the shadowed corners of the bar.

Somehow Gerald found himself glued to his chair all night, sipping at his drink whilst the others drank till their vision blurred. He knew he had to work tomorrow, normally the first to leave for that reason alone. But something kept him from leaving the poorly lit bar and the stale stench of cigarettes. That something happened to be over six feet tall and wearing an infamous ‘Scotch’ truckers hat.

Stuart happened to arrive the same time as Gerald, the taller man was on foot, fists shoved deep in his torn jeans as he walked up and raised his chin to acknowledge the others presence. Their hands brushed reaching for the doorknob and electricity shot through his fingertips, goosebumps prickled the jewish man's skin feeling rough calloused skin brush against his own. Stuart grunted an apology and shoved his way inside, unknowing his touch left the curly haired man breathless.

Randy's awful singing wasn’t enough to distract him from the awakening feeling in his belly. Something he hadn't felt in over twenty years. Something he shoved to the deep recesses of his mind.

A strange urge came over the jewish man, and set down his beer, clearing his throat at the same time, “What are you talking about? The night's still young, hang around for another beer and I’ll drive you home.”

Stuart’s expression became suspicious, his thick brows furrowed together, the bars dim lighting casting a sinister shadow over his foggy blue eyes. His stance was wobbly at best, a strong hand gripping the table held him steady. The Sandy blonde could drink more than anyone, almost anyone anyway. He and Jimbo held the record for most beers consumed in one sitting and they wore it like a badge of honor. Yet his body swayed as if an invisible wind gently rocked him side to side.

He knew Stuart would never turn down a free drink, or anything that he didn't have to pay out of pocket for for that matter. So when the other still didn't respond, Gerald nervously scratched at his beard, “I’ll buy you a beer.”

That seemed to be enough, the other man plopped back into his seat in defeat. Pointing an accusing finger in Gerry’s direction. 

“Y’alright, but none of that girly shit. S’more schnapps or nothin’.”

They had nothing but bottled brews and Skeeter’s tap beer, what ‘girly shit’ he was referring to was a mystery best left unsolved.

Even in the poorly lit bar, Stuart had some of the bluest eyes Gerald ever got the pleasure of witnessing. A vibrant cornflower blue that put the sky it's self to shame. Back then, Stuart’s eyes sparkled in such a mischievous way it had all the women ready to bend over backwards just to get his attention. But that spark died long ago, his eyes were fogged from years of alcohol abuse. Now it was a miracle to catch him sober.

Not everything about his friend was as he remembered.

Stuart, with a little influence from Gerald did finish high school. Initially he intended to drop out and start working at the local repair shop. Being the good friend he was, Gerry managed to talk him into at least finishing school. Not that it seemed to help him these days.

Much to the towns disbelief, Stuart was actually really smart. He couldn't tell you the difference between an equilateral and an isosceles triangle, or what pie was, but he was incredibly street smart. Stu knew how to take care of himself even when he had nothing to go on. He could read people like they were an open book and weasel himself out of trouble with some of his southern charm.

The poor man learned from the good and the bad times, you can't always trust what you learn from books.

Something he tried to drill into Gerald's head all those years ago.

Gerry couldn't count the times he got flustered unable to find a solution to a simple problem, yet Stuart would reach over and do it for him. In fact, he was the one to always pull him and make him step out of his personal bubble on more than one occasion. Parties and drugs were a great example, the many nights spent together talking until the sun came up, the quiet nights too close for friends to be. The touching, the kisses, the pleasure.

A certain memory quickly resurfaced, and Gerald swallowed the frog in his throat.

“Do you remember when we destroyed Randy's yard with your pick up truck?”

Surprise crossed the other man's expression, and absently toyed with the neck of his new beer, “Yeah, what about it?

Shifting nervously, even with the liquid courage in his system and the buzzing his brain something kept him from outright burying his feelings again, “Do you wanna, maybe-”

For some reason his lips refused to form the words swimming around in his brain.

Did you wanna-

Maybe-

Just for a little while-

“Out with it Brof, stop pussy footing around, you’re Killin’ my buzz.”

“Did you wanna do it again? For old times sake?”

Stuart studied him, not just a simple glance or bored stare like he was checking the game's score. His eyes roamed from the chair, to his posture, all the way the his yamaka. Gerald felt the need to squirm under his intense gaze, everything about the other man had been intense since they were kids. He couldn't believe he forgot just how much a single look could do to him.

The scariest part was he knew his own words held a deeper meaning, and he knew Stuart caught on like a moth to a flame. He wasn't the idiot every took him for.

The other man was contemplating the meaning of his words.

“I don't have that old hunk a crap anymore. I had to sell it to replace the heater years ago.”

However, they did say ignorance was bliss.

“Oh, right.”

Logically using his own car would be like shining a homing beacon straight to his front yard. He only lived a few houses down, Randy would find out it was his car that destroyed his yard and probably try and set fire to his car. That and nothing said ‘fuck you’ like a old pickup truck destroying your flower bed.

A movement caught his eye, Ned had stumbled off his stool to nudge at the limp form mumbling on the counter top. He couldn't recall seeing the smaller man down too many brewskies. Ned seemed to be the responsible one amongst the two of them. Moments later he collapsed back into his seat when Jimbo’s heavy arm guided him back up with slurred teasing words for another round on him.

The defeated look soon turned to concern when Jimbo looked ready to hurl. Gerald knew that look well, last time Jimbo drank that much was after the Broncos won the super bowl. Much like last time, the overweight man whined and bolted for the bathroom. Ned was soon stumbling after him to make sure he didn't somehow drown in the toilet, again.

The two men remained silent, both intrigued by the whole ordeal to continued their conversation. Though Gerald suddenly noticed a gleam of something on the counter. Alongside Jimbo’s hat, sat a pair of car keys.

His fingers curled around the large key and lucky rabbit foot keychain that belonged to none other than Jimbo Kern. The jewish man turned back with a knowing smile on his face as he jingled the set of keys. “I don’t think Jimbo would mind if we borrowed his truck.”

Stuarts frown stretched into a grin, obviously a bit buzzed from his several drinks, “That’s so fuckin’ dirty.”

A warm rush shot through his belly, watching Stuart’s grin widen and finish off his beer, slamming the bottle to the dirty counter top.

“Let's do it.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was strange to be laying low in their seats, watching the Marsh household for any signs of life. Jimbo's hummer was anything but inconspicuous, which played to their advantage. If anyone did catch them tearing up Randy's lawn, Jimbo was the only one in town with this gas guzzling monstrosity.

Stuart was behind the wheel, his hat was tugged down to shadow his face from the street lamps. It was a bit redundant, especially with the darkly tinted windows. Though this was something he was used to, you take every precaution not to get caught.

His long fingers were drumming against the steering wheel, eyes focused on on their surroundings. Gerald unbuckled his seatbelt before asking, “Are you sure you're ok to drive? You had like 10 drinks.”

The little jerk his friend's head was red flag if he ever saw one, but he was shushed. “This ain't nothin’, when I start slurrin’s when you should worry.”

“I’m more concerned more for the truck, if you crash this thing were royally screwed.”

Stuart snorted, revving the engine a bit “Jimbo's probably passed out at the bar, what he won't know won't hurt him. Trust me Brof, it will just be like last time.”

Gerald was starting to have seconds thoughts, “Last time you hit a mailbox and nearly ran over their dog.”

His only response was the engine jerking the car forward and straight into Randys front lawn. Stuart wasn't exactly the safest driver if you were in the passenger's seat, but he used to do drag races in his younger days. He would trick out his car with homemade rocket boosters, he pretty much trained himself to be an amature stunt driver.

Stuart shifted gears, and hit the gas all the way to the floor, mud tore up as the wheels kicked the earth out from underneath it. Gerald cheered, only after moments his doubts about the whole thing faded from existence.

The hummer hit the curb as it once again met the street, leaving muddy tracks as Stuart jerked it around for another go. Deep tire marks ruined the lush green yard and the melted snow turned dirt into a muddy mess. Gerald was sure the car looked like it had been through the swamp and back but he couldn't bring himself to care. It had been years, so many long years that he did anything like this. Blood rushed through his veins with a newfound excitement, and his body felt tingly.

But then car halted, the engine revved yet it didn't move. It was stuck in the mud. 

“Fuck!” Stuart snarled, changing gears to no avail. The treading was lost and the tires were held hostage by the crevice of dirt they created, Gerald could see a light turn on from the otherwise undisturbed household and yelled. “Come on! The lights are on!”

“I ain’t pickin’ daisies!”

Flashing lights made them both freeze, a cop car was speeding down the street, surely Officer Barbrady blaring his siren sure to wake the dead and the sleeping residents of the neighborhood.

 

“Oh god! Sheila is gonna have my balls on a platter!”

Stuart was too busy trying to get them out of here, panic was evident on his face as he continued to hit the gas but Gerald reached over to grab his arm. “Easy! You're gonna lose our traction!.”

“Shut up! Don't you think I know that?!”

Suddenly Stuart stopped, the cop car was parked right in front of the drive way as the men's hearts beat a million times a minute. Like fireflies in the night, the other houses light flicked on, looks like the neighborhood watch decided not to sleep in tonight.

They were so fucked.

“Alright Mr. Happypants! Your joy rides over, get out of the car right now!” Barbrady’s already loud voice boomed over his audio system. Gerald had to resist trying to shush him in order to keep the people in their houses.

Fear evident on his face, Gerry turned to his friend whose eyes were focused on the gear shift. Stuart eased on the gas, barely enough to tell the car was moving, the slow easing was enough for the tired to grab the mud and ease itself out of the hole. Jehovah be blessed that Jimbo loved this car like his own child, the tries must have been all terrain to help him get through the mountains for his hunting trips. Otherwise there was no doubt they would be getting shoved into the back of thesquad car by now.

“Hold on Ger!”

Stuart hit the gas and they flew, rocketing around Barbrady’s car and skidding loudly onto the street. Leaving burn out marks and mud as a trail to their nasty deed. The last thing they saw of the situation was Randy in an open robe and underwear, running out into the street through the rear view mirror. 

Stuart sped down the street, dodging the cars parked on the street, Barbrady’s flashing lights gleamed in the back mirror, chasing them down the usually quiet streets of South Park. Gerald didn't realize he was screaming until Stuart was laughing like a maniac. Taking off his seatbelt was suddenly an awful idea.

“Oh my god, were running from Barbrady!”

Gerald forgot how much of a rush Stuart gave him. The man was zooming through the street and screeching around corners like he did this everyday of his life. To be honest, this probably wasn't his first time running from the law but something was making knots in the jewish man's chest. When he looked over, he didn't see Stuart the drunk, he saw Stuart McCormick. The boy that egged their principal's car, who ate all his cookies at lunch because his mom couldn't lunch, the kid who punched Stephen Stotch for making fun of his curly hair in 5th grade. The teen who had the courage to confess his filthy feelings in high school.

He saw his best friend.

Soon the lights disappeared as they out ran the only police officer in town, Stuart had an escape route through the twisting trails near Stark's pond. Officer Barbrady didn't get much action in South Park being such a small town, his devotion for trying to keep up was all in vain as they disappeared into the night. Then again it was impossible to miss a truck like this, he would probably wait till morning to go looking for it. If he was smart of course.

“Oh hell yeah!” Stuart cheered, slamming his hand on the steering wheel, coming to an abrupt stop. In the darkness of the woods, he could barely make out his face, the moon shown through the windows casting them both in a blueish glow.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins and the world became a rush just like when he used to do drugs back in the day. His body felt lighter than air yet he felt the need to just run and cheer. Goosebumps prickled across his skin as he laughed along with the other man.

“We just tore up Randy's lawn, stole Jimbo's truck and out ran Barbrady.” Gerald recounted their actions, unable to believe they just relived their younger days.

Stuart’s grin was large enough to put the chesire cat to shame, “That bastard deserves it for be being an asshole all the time. Jimbo’s gonna need to wash this baby after all the shit we just put it through.”

They both breathed to let their breath catch up with them, letting the high wash over them and the buzz from their drinking giving him a pleasant heat warming him from the inside out. “Holy crap did you see Randy’s face? I don't think I’ll be able to look him in the eye without laughing.”

Stuart laughed, snorting on his own breath. He was surely drunker than he led on but Gerald didn't mind, somehow he managed to drive them here like he was a stunt driver from hollywood. “Just wait till we pass and he's filling in those holes.”

”Definitely more of a rush than last time!”

The comment made Stuart go silent, lips tightening into a line. He gave a final chuckle before looking off to the side. Of course he had to go and open his big mouth and step on a landmine. It was like stepping on eggshells with Stuart, and he didn't want it to be. If anything this little adventure reawakened his past feelings about his past best friend.

They had been so close years ago, closer than anyone really knew.

It was a twisted road of emotions back then. One day Stuart told him something he never expected.

Stuart liked him, and not just as a friend.

It was like he lived on a different planet after that. Stuart was a ladies man if he ever saw one, his attitude had women had flocking to him like bitches in heat. Stu had sex more times than he could count and partied more than anyone Gerald ever came to know, even during his time at college.

It was a dark secret that they had fooled around many years ago, Gerald found himself struck by his rough attitude and fell hard for none other than his best friend. When it's your best friend, it just becomes so easy.

But he blew it, he ruined their relationship and their friendship. Severing it like a loose thread.

“I’m sorry Stu.”

Said man dragged his fingers along his handlebar mustache, smoothing its edges. “For what?”

Gerald sighed, trying to meet the others eyes in the inky blackness “For leaving.”

The topic made Stuart's hair bristle on the back of his neck and wished he had 10 more drinks to drink himself silly for the coming discussion. “Too late for sorry Brof, what's done is done.”

It was true, they were both married, and children at the hip. Tonight had just been to relive their youth and remember what it was like to be carefree and together.

“I know.” defeated, the smaller man reclined in his seat. “But just know I never meant to hurt you like that. It just took me 20 something years to admit it.”

Long fingers met his collar, but this time he was yanked forward. He could make out Stuarts bright blue eyes in the darkness and his hot breath on his face. “Then what did you mean to do Brof? You just left, there ain't much to it.”

Gerald's skin prickled again and his heart rate picked up. Glad the darkness could hide the warmth blossoming across his face. “I had to leave Stu, I couldn't make something of my life in South Park.”

Stuart let him go, though it looked like he was holding himself back. “I didn’t wanna be some jobless dead beat, but look where I am now.”

Gerald resisted the urge to hiss back, a yelling match wouldn't end well in such a confined space despite the truck’s roomie entirer. Instead his hands clenched around his pant legs, wrinkling the freshly pressed fabric.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Shove it Broflovski, I don’t need your fake ass sorrys.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gerry took a deep breath to calm his nerves and swallow the hot ball in his throat. It was true, maybe if he stayed and tried to find a job in south park Stuart wouldn't have ended up like this. He drank to forget his past, and Gerald was his past.

But he never regrets leaving to study for his dream job, no matter how much heart ache it gave either of them.

“Do you remember when we worked at the pizzeria together?”

“What the hell are you tryin’ to do here Brof? Relive all the good times we had? Breaking news sherlock, we aren't friends anymore.”

For some reason it hurt like a blow to the head, their ‘friendship’ if you could call it that, had been rocky at best. The only reason they were even around each other anymore was because of their kids. Kenny and Kyle were good friends, Gerald just prayed they didn't up like he and Stuart.

The other stayed silent, letting the realization wash over him. The pent of frustrations boiling in his belly were starting to overflow and his legs tightened. He couldn't believe he was about to suggest such a thing, he was happily married man. His desires had been beaten down years ago but Stuart was so close. This might be the only chance to quiet the growing urges in his mind. His fingers tightened against his pants to keep his hands to himself. Ignoring Stuarts outburst he continued. “How we would sneak off to the back to your truck.” his words were no longer questioning, Gerald let the memory replay in his mind than made his skin tingle recalling every place Stuart ravished.

Stuart's eyes were boring holes into his body and he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eyes. “How we would, you know.” twirling a hand as if the words were dancing around him. “Fool around until Mr. Greeley came back.”

He still didn't get a response and feared maybe he shouldn't have brought it up. But his fingers lost their grip on his pants and were searching the darkness, they soon found the threads of Stuart's dirty shirt. When no protest came from drawing the other man close, their noses brushed. Stuarts hot breath nearly had Gerry moaning just from the warmth the other was radiating. A shy tilt of his head and their lips met, hidden in the darkness of the Jimbo’s hummer. It was chaste, Gerald questioned if it even happened, because Stuart’s arm shot out to grab his collar and yank him away.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Stuart spat, words suddenly very clear and menacing.

Gerald sputtered a little, already fearing the repercussions. His wife, Stuart's wife, Stuart shaming him, if anyone found out, who knows what they would do. Their past was in the past, they weren't allowed to relive their good days together anymore. They had families to worry about, and the realization his the jewish man like a ton of bricks, choking on his breath. He was committing adultery with another man, one who looked ready to crush his teeth back into his skull.

“N-no, please don’t be mad-”

His pleads were lost as Stuart's hand tangled through his curls, twisting and dragging him for a kiss with such a ferocity it made Gerald's eyes flutter. Automatically, Gerald's fingers found Stuarts sandy blonde hair, uncaring for the infamous red hat as it fell to the floor. Neither for his yamaka that was knocked hazardly off by Stuart's strong hands.

Gerry never felt the raw need to just be next to someone before. But with Stuart's tongue doing wonders and his hands were leaving hot sensations traveling right to his groin, that need was starting to be a problem.

Calloused hands found his thighs, and gave a tight squeeze.

Gerald gasped, pulling away to catch his breath.

His wife slept with chef, maybe this was his one time.

A rough bite to his collarbone made his moan.

Then again, he offered to let Sheila sleep with someone else. Maybe this was a bad idea, he was happy with Sheila, there was going to be guilt and he knew it. 

Stuart was breathing hotly in his ear, touching him in ways only he knew how. Even after all this time he still knew how to make him unravel like a thread of spool. He growled softly, unable to get much closer with the center console in the way “Get in the back Brof.”

He knew Stuart had feelings for him many years ago, the merciless rain of kisses and needy touches were pent up for so many years ignored. Gerald couldn't pretend he didn't miss his best friend, his secret lover. 

His knees quaked trying to shove open the door, and meet Stuart in the much larger expanse of the back seat.

Maybe one last night wouldn't do any harm, there was no need to ask questions when nothing on his brain involved anything but Stuart's body pressed against his own.

He certainly wasn't about to question why Jimbo had lube in his car, but they were going to put it to good use.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Back at the bar, Jimbo was snoring on the bathroom floor. Having managed to keep down his dinner, Ned helped his prop his friend up against the dirty wall. The smaller man rolled his eyes at the display, checking the man's many pockets for his keys.

Skeeter was ready to close up shop, kicking out the random patreons to the curb but allowed the huntsmen a little longer to gather themselves.

Unable to find the car keys on Jimbo’s person, he went for their other belongings. Still unable to find the keys to his hummer.

“If you're looking for fat boys keys, Gerry and Stuart snagged them a while ago.” Skeeter was busy cleaning a glass, carefully replacing it back behind the bar.

Face remaining unchanged, Ned pressed this voice box to his throat. “Mn- and you let them go?”

Skeeter gave a defensive shrug, “S’not my place to keep track of all the stuff ‘round here that gets stolen, I just saw them headin’ out the door after refillin’ the tap.”

Ned frowned in annoyance but the sound of a siren caught both men's attention. South Park was a quiet mountain town, any crime was like striking gold. It wasn't every day you got to watch a high speed chase, they were immediately drawn to the front door to watch as a large red hummer zoomed by, moments later Officer Barbrady’s squad car screeching after it.

Both men watch it, calm as ever, Skeeter crossed his arms “Huh. That was Jimbo's truck wasn't it?”

Eyes still on the flashing lights quickly vanishing into the thick woods of Stark's pond, Ned spoke, “Mnn- yup.”

“Five bucks says drunkard back there will jump right out of his buzz when you tell him.”

“Mn- make it ten.”


End file.
